


Sunshine and Moonlight

by Hot_elf



Series: Dragon Age - series 9 (Lynx Mahariel/Rob Hawke) [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lynx Mahariel has lost everything she ever cared about, and she's lost and lonely among the shems. Help comes from an unexpected source: an Antivan assassin sent to kill her.<br/>Short but sweet retelling of the game romance. Because I'll never be over Zevran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Sunset

_Denerim, The Royal Palace_

Predictably, they made him wait. A lowly assassin, a foreigner, an elf to boot - of course they had to put him in his place. It was only to be expected. The sun, or what passed for it in this grey and inhospitable country, was about to set by the time he was finally admitted to the Regent's chambers.

When Arl Howe introduced him, he stepped forward, wondering for a moment whether he should bend his knee, but then deciding against it. He was not Fereldan, and Loghain MacTir wasn't king. Not yet.

"The Antivan Crows send their regards." He settled for a polite little bow. "Zevran Arainai, at your service."

"An assassin!" There was a world of contempt in MacTir's tone.

Zevran didn't mind. He was used to that kind of reaction from these barbaric Southerners. No need to waste his energy on changing the man's mind. He left it to Howe to do the persuading. The man might be disagreeable, but at least he understood the realities of politics and had no unnecessary scruples.

Listening with half an ear to their discussion, he quickly scanned his contract to check the details. Two Grey Wardens to be killed, swiftly and efficiently, and a princely sum paid in return, as soon as he delivered proof of their death. All expenses taken care of, of course, and a royal pardon for the killing of any unfortunates that should happen to get in the way. Everything seemed to be in order, but then the Crows always made sure of that.

MacTir was still grumbling and muttering under his breath by the time he left the room, but that was hardly Zevran's problem. All he needed now was a plan and some supplies.

"Arainai! Wait!" Rendon Howe called him back as he was about to leave the Royal Wing. "Whatever you do, don't underestimate them." Howe's eyes were narrowed and his mouth pulled up in a sneer, which was not an attractive look on him. "From what my sources tell me, it's not just the two of them anymore. They've managed to whip up some support, and have several people travelling with them now, mercenaries no doubt. Two or three mages, I'm told, and there are even rumours of a Qunari warrior."

_A Qunari?_ That was unexpected, but Zevran hid his surprise with the ease of long practice and just nodded calmly. Howe withdrew with an arrogant snort.

So it was going to be difficult. _Good_. This contract was just what he needed, the more dangerous the better. If they really turned out to be so tough to kill, if they should actually manage to defend against him, he would welcome death. There was little enough to live for, anyway. This way, he would go out in a blaze of glory, taken down by worthy opponents. Wasn't that all a Crow could ask for in the end?

_And thus endeth the short but illustrious career of Zevran Arainai, master assassin._ It was all very fitting.

 


	2. Waning Moon

_Outside Redcliffe_

"Are you all right?" Alistair's face carried an expression of genuine concern, but even so Lynx felt irritation rise inside her the moment he opened his mouth. "I mean, you look sort of pale and tired and-"

_Of course I'm not all right. Stupid shem! I've lost my home, my family, my future. I have to spend the rest of my life among your kind. How could I possibly be 'all right'?_ The words were on the tip of her tongue, but of course she didn't say them aloud. "I'm fine. Just exhausted from the nightmares."

"Poor you." Alistair nodded. "I remember all too well. It will get better, you know."

Lynx swallowed. He was really trying to be nice. Maybe she could talk to him, after all. "I'm also a bit lonely," she ventured.

"Lonely?" Alistair's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Why would you be lonely? You've got all of us, haven't you?" His expansive gesture took in Wynne, Leliana, Sten and Morrigan, as well as the slobbering dog.

_Or maybe not_. "Yes but…" Lynx hesitated, but then decided to give it one more shot. "None of you are _elvhen_ , you know. I miss my own people. I wish I could talk to one of them now and again."

"Ah." Understanding dawned on Alistair's features. "But there were lots of elves at the Tower. Couldn't you have talked to them?"

Lynx closed her eyes, trying to hide her revulsion. The elven mages at Kinloch had been… worse than humans, in a way. So strange, so alien, so utterly removed from her people's beliefs and traditions, without _vallaslin_ , without memories of their Clan or their family, ignorant of the Creators. Stinking of _shem_ magic, too. Even Morrigan was more bearable than them.

Alistair was still looking at her expectantly, and she sighed. "It's not the same."

He nodded, but she could plainly see he didn't get it. But at least he left her to her thoughts as they continued down the road toward Redcliffe Village. Lynx much preferred silence to talking. It was easier that way, far easier to hide her sorrow behind an impassive expression, far easier to numb the pain in her soul. She'd gotten a lot of practice at that since Ostagar, and now she hardly felt it anymore. She hardly felt anything anymore.

"It's not far to Redcliffe now." Alistair's voice was warm and gentle, as if he regretted interrupting her train of thought. "I'm sure Arl Eamon will be able to help us."

Lynx just nodded. She didn't care, one way or another. After Duncan's death, when they had made it out of the Korcari Wilds, Alistair had suggested the Arl might be able to help them. And maybe he was right. How would she know? What did a Dalish elf know about human politics? How could she possibly be expected to sort out a Blight? Lynx had no idea what had possessed Duncan to pick her for this task. She could hardly imagine a less suitable candidate.

"How long until we reach the village?" She glanced up at Alistair. _Creators, why does he have to be so tall?_

"An hour, maybe two. We'll be there before nightfall, at any rate." Alistair smiled, whistling for Chewie, their mabari, who had strayed off the road. "I'm curious to see the place, actually. It's where I grew up."

Lynx was about to reply when the dog began to growl. A finely dressed woman was coming toward them, hands raised imploringly. The sun stood low in the sky to the west, and Lynx had to squint to make out details, but behind the woman she thought she could see the silhouette of an overturned wagon at the side of the road.

"Help! Please help me!" The woman's voice sounded desperate, but something about her made Lynx' skin crawl.

Alistair kept walking, eager to help out a fellow traveller, and she felt she had to hold him back, warn him somehow, but before she could say a word, she heard a characteristic twanging noise.

"Alistair! Arrows!" Finally she found her voice again.

To his credit, he didn't hesitate for a moment. In one smooth movement, he raised his shield above his head and drew his sword. Three arrows whizzed past the woman and buried themselves in the wood, piercing the painted griffon. From somewhere, the woman produced a staff and began to intone a spell.

Lynx cursed inaudibly and notched her first arrow. Next to her, Leliana did the same. Sten was already thundering past them, sword in hand, and Wynne and Morrigan were responding with incantations of their own. Lynx spared a moment to thank the Gods for all the hours of battle training Alistair had insisted on. They really paid off now.

Even so, it was a close call. The mage went down quickly, struck by a massive blow from Sten's sword. That was a blessing, since her spells could have done serious harm. The bowmen weren't much of a problem either – both Lynx and Leliana were far more skilled than their foes. But Sten was taken out early when he stepped into a particularly nasty leg-hold trap, and Alistair only narrowly avoided the same fate.

In the end, their biggest problem was one man. He kept fighting long after the others went down, his two daggers whirling too fast for the eye to follow as he feinted, withdrew and attacked at lightning speed. For the longest time, he managed to evade Alistair's blows, laughing as he did so, as if he was having the time of his life. It was only thanks to a well-placed freezing spell from Morrigan that they finally managed to pin him down.

Alistair quickly tied his wrists behind his back, holding him to the ground with one knee pressed to his spine. Lynx lowered her bow and stepped closer. For the first time in weeks, she felt a stirring of curiosity.

The first thing she saw of him was his hair, long and shimmering like spun gold in the late afternoon sun, tousled despite the careful braiding. Between the long strands, there was the unmistakable shape of a pointed ear. _An elf!_ Her heart beat faster, or maybe that was just leftover excitement from the battle. When he raised his head to face her, she held her breath for a moment. He was… not what she had expected.

His skin was much darker than hers, a rich, golden brown, and a distinctive tattoo adorned the left side of his face: two parallel lines running all the way from his temple down to his cheek, as if a large cat had marked him with its claws. His lips, full and sensual, were still blue from the cold, but he managed a small smile at the sight of her. His light-brown eyes met hers, clear and wary, but without a trace of fear. _He's not afraid of death_.

And surely, killing him would be the sensible course of action, after such an attack. Lynx wanted to question him first, though, and he answered readily enough.

_Zevran Arainai_. An unfamiliar name, with a foreign sound to it, and yet, when he gave it in his rich, purring voice with the heavy accent, Lynx felt a shiver run down her back, as if she'd heard it before. He was an Antivan Crow, he said, a paid killer looking to end her life and Alistair's, at Teyrn Loghain's behest.

"We've heard enough, Warden." Leliana's voice, cool and reasonable. "I doubt he'll tell us more. I've had dealings with Crow assassins before, and they are highly dangerous. Let me-"

The bard was already stepping forward, dagger in hand, when the prisoner cried out, his eyes seeking out Lynx' face. "Wait. Please."

"Do you plan on talking your way out of this, assassin?" Morrigan's voice was dripping with contempt.

He ignored her, still focussed on Lynx. "I understand why you would want to kill me. But I believe there is another option."

Lynx was intrigued, almost against her will. "Go on." Morrigan rolled her eyes and Alistair raised his head with an angry huff, but she motioned for them to be silent. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"It's very simple." The assassin smiled disarmingly. "I failed at killing you, thus my life is forfeit. Either you will kill me, or the Crows will."

"That sounds about right so far." Leliana's eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

Again, Zevran ignored everyone except for Lynx, his eyes never leaving hers. "Let me serve you instead. You seem as if you could protect me from my former masters."

"Even if I could… You're very quick to betray them," Lynx pointed out. "How do I know you won't do the same to me?"

"Good question." He nodded. "This is different, however. Joining the Crows was never my choice. I was sold to them, when I was but a child. Can you blame me if I don't want to die for them?"

* * *

Zevran held his breath as he watched his captor's face.

She was not at all what he had expected when he'd signed the contract. A lot younger, for one thing, a delicate waif of a girl, with pale skin and dark, haunted eyes. If he hadn't seen her handle her bow during the fight, he'd have been inclined to dismiss her as harmless. But she was skilled, impressively so, and she had her tattoos, so she had to be older than she looked. _Howe and his master also failed to mention she's Dalish._ Not that it would have made a difference to him. Sentimentality wasn't something an assassin could afford.

"No. I guess I can't blame you." She had a curious voice, hoarse and muted, and she was looking at Zevran as if she could see straight into his soul. She couldn't, of course, and good for her. Not even he himself would be willing to face its darkest corners. "So, what's in it for me if I accept your services?"

"Oh, I am skilled at many things. Stealing, fighting, lock-picking…" Which was stretching the truth a bit, but he _could_ deal with simple locks. He let his grin turn mildly suggestive. "I could even warm your bed, if you wish."

A faint blush crept onto those pale cheeks. "You- No, I couldn't possibly… That wouldn't be right." She sounded stiff and uncomfortable, and for the first time, she avoided his gaze.

He chuckled softly. "Your choice. But I'm sure there are other things I could do for you. If you want me, I'm your man, without reservations."

"Will you swear to that?" She reached for her dagger.

"Lynx!" The big warrior at her side sounded incredulous. "Do you honestly intend to let him live? How can you possibly think that's a good idea?"

"You were the one who wanted me to take the lead, Alistair. If you're serious about that, you'll have to accept my decisions." Her eyes took on a far-away look for a moment, but then she was back with them. "Well, will you swear?"

"I swear." Zevran didn't hesitate for a moment. This was his chance, his only chance, and he didn't want to die, not now when things had suddenly turned so interesting. "I pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it."

Lynx nodded and cut through his bonds. Her hands were cool on his wrists, her touch light, but even so he felt it as if her fingertips had been burned into his skin. Carefully, he rubbed his hands to get the blood circulating again. The warrior – Alistair - still kept one hand on his sword grip.

"Well, well." The tall, beautiful mage seemed almost amused. "Our very own assassin. Who knows, he might even turn out to be useful. Still, we'd better be careful with our food from now on. He could easily poison us all."

"I could, yes." Zevran glanced briefly at her. "But I won't. You will see that I take this oath seriously." He dropped to his knee in front of Lynx. "Warden. I'm yours to command."

She almost blushed again, but when she spoke, she sounded firm and determined. "Give him his weapons back, Alistair."

"Lynx!" Alistair raised his hands in mock desperation. "This is madness. Let me at least hold on to his daggers until we know him better."

She shrugged gracefully. "Either we trust him or we don't. You think he doesn't know a thousand ways to kill us without weapons?"

"True," the redheaded woman muttered under her breath. "There's no way to render a Crow harmless."

"I accept your oath, Zevran Arainai. I trust in your word." Lynx fixed him again with those large, dark eyes. "And if I'm wrong, may the Gods help us all. Now, how is Sten? Can you do anything for him, Wynne?" She turned to Alistair. "If we hurry, we may still be able to make it to Redcliffe today. We can walk by the light of the moon if need be."

Zevran followed her with his eyes as she made her way over to the wounded Qunari. He wasn't sure what to make of his new mistress. She wasn't easy to read, that one, not even for him. Behind that cool mask, he could sense suffering and pain, bordering on despair, but at the same time there was an incredible strength, a fierce determination not to give in. _Not broken, not yet._

Still, she would need all the help she could get to survive. And Zevran found, to his surprise, that he was more than ready to do his part. Two hours ago, his existence had been meaningless and he'd have welcomed death. Now he had suddenly discovered something he cared about. _The Crows won't have her, and neither will Loghain. Not while I live._

 

 


	3. New Moon

_Orzammar_

"Aaaand here we are. Orzammar." Alistair pointed up at the huge stone arch above the road, grinning as proudly as if he'd built it himself. "It's all underground from here, or so I'm told."

 _Underground_. Lynx felt the fine hairs on her neck rise in apprehension. Glancing over at Zevran, she noticed that he didn't look happy either.

"A stroke of luck, really." Alistair seemed oblivious to her discomfort. "Winter is coming, and we'll be far more comfortable down there than up here in the ice and snow."

 _Speak for yourself_. She wasn't looking forward to spending weeks below the surface, with no sunlight, no fresh air, and countless tons of cold and dead stone above her head. As usual, Lynx didn't voice her thought aloud. "Well, it can hardly be worse than Redcliffe."

It was a feeble attempt at optimism, but it was true that she had hated every minute they'd spent at Redcliffe. The mere thought of the village, stinking of death and decay, made her want to throw up. It had been worse in the Castle. The nobles had looked at her as if they were surprised that an elf could string together coherent sentences. That hadn't stopped them from relying on her to sort out their messes for them, only to criticize her for her methods afterwards. She could still hear Bann Teagan's aristocratic voice. _If only you'd found a way to save poor Isolde, too._ Lynx shook her head at the memory. Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to be sad about the Arlessa's death.

Next to her, Alistair cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for the way they treated you, you know."

Lynx head snapped up in surprise. She hadn't expected him to have noticed. "It's all right, Alistair. I don't care."

Alistair opened his mouth as if to speak, but then thought better of it. Suddenly, Lynx felt a little ashamed of herself, recalling what he'd told her about his childhood at Redcliffe. _A kennel boy._ Sleeping with the dogs, neglected and all but forgotten. When all the time Eamon had known who he really was. _Turns out I'm travelling with the rightful heir to Ferelden's throne. Who would have thought?_ Lynx almost snorted aloud. Though, really, she should have known. After all, she'd met King Cailan at Ostagar, and the family resemblance was unmistakable. Then again, back then all _shems_ had appeared the same to her. Too big, too loud, too smelly.

They were approaching the gates of the dwarven city now, and Lynx shuddered. "I just hope we won't have to stay long," she muttered under her breath.

Zevran, who had quietly stepped up behind her, threw her a worried glance. "Lynx?"

He placed his hand on her bare forearm, just a faint touch, lasting a mere heartbeat, but it was enough to feel his strength and warmth, and it helped her collect herself.

"I'll be fine." She inhaled deeply, steeling herself for the descent underground. _Creators help me!_

* * *

Zevran was worried, more than he could say. They hadn't seen the sun in almost four weeks now, and Lynx was wilting visibly with each passing day. It didn't help that they were going deeper and deeper underground, further and further away from daylight. _The Deep Roads_. The mere name made him shudder inside, though he did his best to hide his revulsion. He had to be strong, for both of them.

"Lynx?" Dropping to one knee next to her, he handed her a bowl of nug stew. "You need to eat, my Warden."

She nodded, though her nostrils flared in disgust at the smell of the food. But she did her best and actually managed to force half the contents of the bowl down her throat before handing it back to him.

"Zev. Thanks for looking after me." She was so pale, and her smile was a mere shadow of what it had been when he'd first met her. Her fine leather armour was spattered all over with darkspawn blood, and her hair had lost its sheen.

Yes, he was worried. Looking at her, he felt his chest tighten so hard he could barely breathe. _Brasca!_ Why did he care so much? What was it about her that made him behave like a mother hen; him, Zevran Arainai, master assassin and heartless seducer of countless women?

She hadn't even let him hug her so far, though she seemed to like it when he lightly touched her hands and arms. And he had begun to live for those brief moments of contact, when he felt her cool skin under his fingertips, when she'd relax the teensiest bit under his touch.

He did it again now, brushing his fingers against the back of her hand when he took the bowl from her, a fleeting caress, yet it seemed to calm her.

"Be strong. It won't be long now until we get to the root of this, and then we can go back to the surface." Zevran made his voice as warm and reassuring as he could, and she responded with a grateful nod.

"Oh, come on, you two, it's not that bad." On the other side of the campfire, Alistair yawned and stretched his long legs. "Just imagine you're all huddled up next to the hearth in winter. It's better than freezing our toes off, right?"

Lynx made a small, exasperated noise, and Zevran threw Alistair an icy look. _He has a good heart, but he really doesn't understand what this is like for elves._

"Don't worry, _cara_." The endearment slipped out before he could stop himself. "You carry the sun inside you. You will make it out of here." He desperately wished he could take her in his arms and hold her, share some of his warmth, but when he moved a little closer, Lynx withdrew immediately. _Skittish like a halla_.

And yet, she made a feeble attempt to smile at him, and the expression in her large, dark eyes was anything but hostile. He held her gaze for as long as he dared, then turned away, sighing inwardly.

* * *

Lynx almost raised a hand to stop Zevran, to pull him back, closer to her. He was so warm, so comforting. _He is my sun underground._ Creators, where had _that_ thought come from? Firmly, she told herself to stop. She couldn't put too much trust in him, couldn't rely on him so much for strength and support. Even if he had proven trustworthy over the past weeks, she simply had no right to ask that of him.

She didn't really understand Zevran's behaviour, if she was honest, even if she appreciated it. He was there, at her side, every single night, quiet and attentive. He helped her clean her armour, made sure her bedroll was spread evenly, found the best morsels of food for her. And yet… though he flirted outrageously with Leliana and Morrigan, causing them to roll their eyes at him more than once, he was unfailingly courteous and distant toward her. Never pushy, never demanding. Just… there, whenever she needed him. It made the descent a little more bearable.

Even so, by the time they reached Ortan Thaig, the weight of the stone threatened to stifle her. Try as she might, she couldn't breathe properly. The tunnels got narrower each day, and their ceilings lower, and the air tasted stale and tepid in her mouth. That night, when she took off her armour, her shoulders felt so stiff and sore she actually cried out in pain when she rolled them in a vain attempt to loosen the hardened muscles.

"Ah, my poor Warden." Zevran's silhouette filled the doorway of the ruined building she'd withdrawn to for the night. "Do you mind if I join you? I could help you relax, you know."

The others had grudgingly accepted her wish to be alone at night by now, even if Alistair grumbled about the dangers of sleeping apart from the group. They all respected her need for privacy, and Zevran most of all. It was unlike him to intrude on her like this.

Lynx glared at him, too tired and irritated to mince words. "Really, Zevran? Do you think you can just walk in here and make suggestive remarks? Creators, does it always have to be about sex with you?" She knew she was being unfair the moment she'd spoken the words, wishing she could take them back.

But Zevran wasn't the least bit offended. "I wasn't actually talking about _that_ , for once, though I could certainly oblige if you want." He laughed softly. "No, I was thinking about a massage. Your shoulders are so tense it's a miracle you can still fight."

Lynx' cheeks heated up in a fierce blush, and Zevran chuckled. "It's funny how the less sex people allow themselves to have, the more it's on their mind... Or maybe that's not so very surprising after all."

"Zev! Please." She felt too mortified for words.

Fortunately, he took pity on her. "Shhhh, my sweet Warden. You know I wouldn't dream of doing anything to you that you don't want. In fact, if it puts your mind at rest…" He got down on one knee before her, placing a hand on his heart in a histrionic gesture that made her laugh against her will. "I solemnly swear I won't kiss you or make love to you until you beg me to do so."

"Not a chance." Lynx grumbled, but somewhere deep down she felt a stirring of interest. What could happen that would make her beg for him?

Zevran got to his feet in a lithe, fluid movement. "Come on, now. You need to relax. Will you let me do this for you?"

When she nodded, he took her hand to lead her over to the corner, where her bedroll was spread on the bare stone floor. "You'll need to take off your shirt."

When he saw her hesitate, he turned away with a sigh, averting his eyes. Lynx quickly scrambled out of her thin linen shirt, leaving her only in her breastband. She told herself not to be silly – he'd seen nearly as much of her when she was still wearing her Dalish armour. But she'd taken to wearing more layers down here, and they made her feel safe. Besides, being here, alone with him, was different.

"Lie down, _cara_." His voice was soft and unthreatening. "I promise I'll be good."

She stretched out on the bedroll, trembling in the cool air. Moments later, she felt Zevran move in behind her, kneeling at her side. There was the noise of a bottle being unstoppered, and then his hands were on her, warm and gentle, smoothing the scented oil all over her back. When he reached her breastband, he quickly untied it, letting the ends drop at her side. Lynx tensed, but he made a soothing noise and ran his hand all the way down her spine, from her neck to her waist. And it felt good, so good she forgot herself and moaned out loud.

Zevran's breath hitched at the sound, but he quickly caught himself and resumed his soft, careful strokes up and down her back. By the time his grip got harder, more decisive as he tackled the tense muscles, she had already relaxed into his touch, trusting him to take care of her.

It was very quiet. All she could hear was his breathing, quiet and regular, speeding up once or twice when she writhed in sheer delight under his hands. He knew exactly how to find the worst spots, and he took his time working the knots out of her aching back. The oil smelled nice, of cinnamon and cloves, and it made her smile – who but Zevran would think of bringing scented oil into the Deep Roads?

Zevran never spoke a single word, all through the massage, and when he was finished, he covered her with a warm blanket, his hand lingering on her shoulder so briefly that she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it. Then he got to his feet and left quietly.

He hadn't tried to take advantage of the situation. This had been about her comfort, nothing else. Lynx felt heavy and relaxed, and more relieved than she could say.

And also a tiny bit disappointed.


	4. Waxing Moon

_Near West Hill_

They made camp near West Hill in a good spot, dry and easy to guard. While Alistair and Morrigan bickered over who had to make dinner, Zevran went to find Lynx. She had settled in a quiet corner, between two tents, and was busy checking the fletching on her arrows.

"My Warden. Would you welcome my company?" He waited for her nod before sitting down next to her and taking out his daggers.

They worked in silence for a while. Lynx was looking much better after a few weeks spent on the surface. Her eyes were clear again, and though her skin was as pale as ever, she visibly enjoyed the warmth of the late afternoon sun. As did he, after all the time they'd spent underground. With a shudder, he fought to banish the memories from his mind. Zevran had seen his fair share of horrors, but nothing would ever compare to the nightmare they called a broodmother. Yes, he was glad to be out of there.

Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed that Lynx had stopped what she was doing and was watching his hands as he was whetting and oiling his blades. He smiled to himself. Something had changed between them after that massage down in the Deep Roads. If nothing else, she was getting curious. Of course he'd been on his best behaviour, careful not to push her, and she trusted him completely now.

There had been a time when this would have been his moment to strike. An unsuspecting victim, lulled into complacency - the old Zevran wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of such a perfect setup. But as he looked up and met her eyes, large and dark and full of secrets, he couldn't imagine betraying her trust, not for a moment. If he needed any proof that his former self had died that day, on the road to Redcliffe, that was it.

They got ready for the night, and Sten took first watch. Morrigan had just relieved him of his duties when the quiet of the night was shattered by an all-too-familiar high-pitched scream. There was no need to wake any of them. Within moments, they were all on their feet, scrambling for their weapons and heading toward the camp's perimeter.

Zevran took a moment to make sure Lynx was safe at the back, with the mages, before throwing himself into the fray. Shrieks, four or five of them. He hated the creatures with a vengeance. Their fast, stealthy way of fighting was far too similar to his own, which made things difficult. Still, together they took down their opponents soon enough – with the exception of one. When Zevran realized the creature had somehow gotten past him, it was already too late. It was right in front of Lynx, and his heart skipped a beat as it lunged toward her. And then the unthinkable happened.

The shriek was right there, facing Lynx who was staring at it with an expression of sheer terror on her face and it _spoke_. "You… _lethallan_ … don't come near me … stay away."

Zevran would have assumed he was dreaming, but the words were clear enough, though the creature's voice was rough and scratched, and full of torment. Before he could react, it was already fleeing toward the edge of the camp and Lynx was right on its heels, her face contorted in pain and horror.

He followed her, but she didn't even see him. Her eyes were fixed on the shriek, and now, from up close, he could see it wasn't like the others. This was an _elf_ , though he was horribly disfigured by darkspawn corruption, his head bald, his skin blotchy, and his eyes sunken deep in their sockets.

Lynx was trying to talk to the creature, but it just kept wailing. Zevran recognized a few more words – _don't look … sick, no help … song in my head … don't want … hurt you –_ and the look on Lynx' face broke his heart. He was about to interfere, to tear her away and put the thing out of its misery, when it threw back its head with a last, desperate whine and attacked her.

Zevran didn't hesitate for a moment. Throwing himself between Lynx and the monster, he raised his blades, ready to die if it meant saving her. Alistair was at his side only seconds later. Fortunately, a well-placed spell from Morrigan slowed down the attacker. It was over almost before it began.

They forced it to the ground, and Zevran was raising his dagger to finish it off when Lynx appeared at his side, taking the weapon from him. "No. Let me."

The thing went still, looking up at her with an expression that was almost peaceful. " _Lethallan_ … always loved you … so sorry."

Lynx sobbed once, then buried the blade in its heart. The sudden silence was deafening.

"What… Who was that?" It was Alistair who spoke first, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Tamlen." Lynx' voice was completely devoid of inflection.

She didn't say more, but Zevran had gathered enough from her earlier remarks to put the pieces together. He knew she'd been about to be betrothed before Duncan had recruited her. This Tamlen had to be-

"I'm so sorry." It seemed Alistair was being slightly less obtuse than usual as well. "But there was nothing we could do, Lynx. Killing him was a mercy."

Lynx didn't answer, didn't look at either of them. But Zevran could feel the pain emanating from her like a physical sensation. Pushing them aside, she headed for her tent and disappeared inside. Alistair made to follow her, but Leliana held him back. Her eyes were full of compassion.

"Leave her alone." Morrigan sounded cool and collected. "This is her own burden to bear, and she is strong. She will cope."

Zevran shook his head. For once, he didn't agree.

* * *

She'd thought she had no tears left after leaving her clan and losing Tamlen. Never had she imagined she'd have to lose him again, and in such a horrible manner. His voice still echoed in her ears. _Always loved you_. Creators, what must he have gone through since going through that mirror? How could she ever forget the look in his eyes as she ended his suffering?

Lynx curled up into a tight ball, trying to contain the pain slicing through her, but it was no use. Her eyes hurt from crying, her throat was sore and she was so terribly tired, but the tears wouldn't stop coming. If she went on like this-

" _Cara_. You need to stop." Zevran's voice was calm and comforting, an anchor of sanity.

She had no idea how he'd gotten inside her tent, but she was too exhausted to tell him to leave, too apathetic to complain when he lay down next to her and pulled her to his chest. His strong arms surrounded her, tight and protective, and his lips brushed gently against her wet face.

"You need to stop," he repeated. "Stop blaming yourself, stop thinking of him, stop crying. You need to rest."

"How can I rest?" She was sobbing so violently she had no idea how he even understood what she was saying. "Tamlen-"

"Shhhh. He's gone. He's at peace now, and you gave him that last gift. You did all you could, my Warden and now you must sleep."

"You don't understand!" Lynx tried to push him away, but his hold was firm. "You never-"

"I do understand, more than you know." Zevran's voice was so raw with pain that it made her pause. "I know what it's like to lose a loved one, _cara,_ and to blame yourself for what happened. But this was not your fault."

She tried to protest, tried to tell him more, but he shushed her gently, and finally, she gave in. Clinging to him like a burr, she allowed sleep to take her and sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.

When she woke up, much later, the dim grey light seeping through the tent's canvas told her it was close to dawn. He was still holding her. She wiggled in his arms to look up at his face. He was already awake. Briefly she wondered whether he had slept at all.

"Zev?"

"What is it, _cara_?" His voice held an infinite amount of tenderness. "You slept a while, yes? Do you feel rested?"

Lynx nodded. "Much better. Thank you."

Zevran brushed her gratitude aside with a quick gesture, kissing her forehead lightly. "I'm glad. You need your strength. Do you…" He hesitated briefly. "Do you wish to talk about it now?"

"Not now." Lynx shook her head. "Later. I promise I'll tell you all about it. But not now."

She needed time to sort it all out first. Tamlen was gone, well and truly gone now, and while last night had been worse than a nightmare, in a way it was a relief to finally know what had become of him. It hurt to think of him, but now she could move on. Despite the pain, she felt at peace now, more than she had in months.

Sighing, she huddled up closer to Zevran. His body felt warm and strong and safe. _So good_. She always felt safe in his presence.

"You know, I was wondering..." Encouraged by the warmth in his eyes, she went on. "Back when we first met, practically the first thing you suggested was that you could _warm my bed_." She blushed, but forced herself to go on. "Now you're here, in my tent, and we're alone, and it's almost as if you have... lost interest."

He laughed softly. "Is that how it seems to you, _cara_?" His grip around her tightened, just for an instant, and she felt him stir against her thigh. "I can assure you that I haven't lost interest in you, nor do I think I ever will."

He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, his fingers lingering on the lines of her _vallaslin_ in a brief caress. His thumb traced her lips, while his eyes watched her carefully. The moment she averted her eyes, he pulled his hand back with a sigh.

Lynx swallowed hard. "You must think me so silly."

"Silly?" He frowned. "No. After what you've just been through, it's more than understandable, if you-"

"It's not that," she cut in abruptly. "It's just- I can't. I can't just throw everything I've been taught to the wind just because I want you. My people-"

His eyes had grown impossibly dark. "So you want it, too? You want me to make love to you?"

The deep purr of his voice did strange things to her insides, and for a moment, she didn't know what to answer. "I… I think I do, but our laws-" She broke off.

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Go on. I freely admit I don't know as much about Dalish laws and customs as I should."

"Why should you?" It was her turn to look surprised.

"My mother was Dalish." He sounded matter-of-fact, but there was a hint of strain in his tone. She wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't known him so well by now. "When I was a boy, I admired them very much. I even tried to run off and join a clan near Antiva City, but it didn't work out. They are a proud people, those who refuse to bow to defeat, and they have little patience with _city elves_." He sighed, but then he nudged her to continue. "What do the laws of the Dalish have to say about love?"

Lynx cleared her throat. "My people… We don't _make love_ without a life bond. We wait for the right person, and ask the Keeper to bless our union. And then we belong to that one person, and only to them, for a lifetime. Those are the rules."

Zevran nodded slowly. "I won't lie to you, _cara_. I think your people are wrong in this. Love and desire cannot be governed by such rules, nor can you force them into such tight bonds. Not everyone is made to be with just one person forever, and sometimes life has different ideas altogether."

Lynx opened her mouth to speak, but realized she didn't have an answer. But Zevran didn't expect one anyway.

"However… What I think is of no account here." Pushing her gently back, he sat up. "I promised, remember? And much as I desire your body..." Against her will, her gaze travelled down to his crotch, to the clear evidence of his want. "I value your friendship and trust even more. So unless you free me of my promise, and I don't think you're ready to do that quite yet, I will, as they say in Ferelden, be a good boy."

He got up, stretching languorously, his shirt riding up to allow her a glimpse of his taut belly, another tattoo snaking enticingly along the expanse of golden skin. Zevran noticed her looking, of course, and he flashed her a quick smile.

"Take your time, my Warden. I can wait. But don't forget…" Bending down, he cupped her cheek with a gentleness that made her gasp. "We may not have a Keeper's blessing. But I am yours, for as long as you want me."

Lynx watched him slink out of the tent, too stunned to reply. Her head was spinning wildly. _I am yours_ , he had said. But was she ready to be his?


	5. Full Moon

_The Brecilian Forest_

Lynx had gone out into the woods at night to be alone with her thoughts. It was a full moon, and it was easy to find her way in its bright light, especially here in the Brecilian Forest. This was the home of her people, a place well-loved by the Dalish for generations. It was in her blood.

But she had hardly left the camp when she began to suspect someone was following her. She kept an ear open for tiny sounds while she was gliding effortlessly through the underbrush, and sure enough, someone was tracking her. Someone fairly skilled at remaining unnoticed, but still not as intimately familiar with the ways of the forest she was. But she knew who it was anyway. _Zevran_.

For a while she battled with herself as she stepped out into a little clearing surrounded by lithe young birches and majestic elms. Should she just try to shake him off? She could do it, without a doubt. Or should she return to the camp? All she had really wanted was to sit for a while, gaze at the moon and enjoy the beauty of the forest at night. But now-

On impulse, she swivelled around, addressing the trees behind her with an exasperated sigh. "You might as well come out into the open, Zevran. I know it's you."

"Brasca!" To his credit, he made no further attempt to hide, but came into view immediately. He had already taken off his armour, just like her, and was wearing only leather pants and a shirt, and the soft Dalish boots she'd given him as a present a few days ago. His hair was still carefully braided.

"I'm sorry, _cara_. I didn't want to intrude on your time alone. Please believe me that I'm only here out of concern for your safety."

Lynx sighed again. "I'm perfectly safe. If not even you could sneak up on me, then who could?"

He came closer, but at her words his expression darkened. "Don't attempt to flatter me. It's embarrassing enough to be caught out so easily. How did you notice me?"

Lynx couldn't suppress a laugh. "Ah, Zev. You may be a master of stealth in a city, but you really haven't got the faintest idea about how to move through a forest quietly. Even if I hadn't heard you myself, the way the creatures of the forest went silent would have given you away."

Zevran cocked his head, listening briefly, then nodded, grudgingly conceding her point. "You're right. Yet they don't do this for you. Will you teach me?"

For a moment her chest tightened at the sincere appreciation of her skills she could read on his face. She kept her face carefully neutral, though. "I'll do my best, but it won't be easy. The children of my clan grow up knowing how to do this. You..."

A brief shadow crossed his face at this reminder of his past, but he quickly caught himself, smiling his usual glib smile, the one that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course."

Lynx cursed inwardly. She hadn't meant to hurt him, never, and she wanted nothing more than to take back her words, even if they were true. He wasn't one of her kind, never would be. How could he understand her?

Except he did. He understood her in so many ways: her pain; her loneliness; her insecurities. And he took it all in stride, never trying to change her, unlike Alistair with his ceaseless attempts to "cheer her up". Or all the others. Everyone seemed to have so many expectations, everyone always wanted something from her. Everyone except Zevran.

Zevran, who was now turning away, to head back to the camp and leave her alone.

Lynx bit her lip hard. "No!" The vehemence of her tone surprised herself. She took hold of his bare upper arm to stop him. "I'm sorry. Please forgive my thoughtless words."

Creators, but his skin was so _warm_ , and so silky soft under her hand. Lynx felt small hairs rise all along her back, a tiny tingle traveling all along her spine, leaving her almost reeling.

He had already opened his mouth, no doubt intending to dismiss her apology as unnecessary, but now he tensed, his gaze meeting hers with such intensity that she gasped.

" _Cara_..." He sounded different, his voice deep and husky, and she realized he'd felt it, too, that spark traveling between them.

Yet he made no move to get closer, just fixed her with his amber eyes, and the fire in them made her tremble.

Lynx swallowed and let go of his arm. Summoning all her courage, she raised her hand to his face, softly tracing the lines of his tattoo. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch and she almost smiled at how catlike his expression was. But still he didn't move and she was shaking with uncertainty. What else could she do to make him understand she was ready to release him of his promise? Then his words came back to her. _I swear I won't kiss you or make love to you until you beg me._

She firmly banished the thought of what Marethari would have to say about her behaviour. "Zev?" His eyes flew open again and he watched her patiently. "Will you kiss me? Please?"

He smiled at her words, a completely different smile this time, and caught her hand in his, breathing a kiss on her palm. "Are you sure? Are you really sure? I have waited so long for this, and once I kiss you-" He swallowed hard, a shiver running all over his body, and she was struck by the sudden realization that he was anything but tame. "I don’t think I'll be able to stop myself from wanting more."

She forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching. "I understand. And it's what I want, too. Please make love to me. Here. Now."

Once again he briefly closed his eyes and, when he opened them again, she half expected him to pounce on her, but of course he didn't. Instead he cupped her face and kissed her softly, his lips barely touching hers at first, watching her every reaction. Only when she responded did he get bolder, his tongue teasing her, his teeth nipping gently at her lips until she opened up to him and he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth so thoroughly and yet so tenderly that he left her breathless and shaking.

Lynx lost track of everything while he kissed her, didn't even realize she was moaning, didn't notice how they had sunk down onto the soft forest floor together. When he broke the kiss after what seemed like an eternity, his shirt had somehow disappeared and he was unlacing hers with careful, unhurried movements, placing kisses on every inch of skin that became visible. His lips were warm and incredibly soft and she couldn't, wouldn't stop him, because it felt so good! And as she looked down on his golden head and felt his lips lock around her nipple, every remnant of doubt fled her mind and she arched into his caress with a breathless whimper.

His answering groan made her feel oddly powerful. There was a tautness to the line of his shoulders that she had never seen there, a tension that spoke of barely sustained control, and it made her thrill with pride, because she was the one doing this to him. He wanted her so badly, he, Zevran Arainai, who had had so many others, so many beautiful and sophisticated women... And just like that the doubts rose to the surface again and she stiffened momentarily.

He reacted immediately, his hot mouth leaving her breasts as he looked up at her. "What's wrong, my love? Do you want me to stop?"

She almost said yes, almost gave in to her fears, but the vulnerability in his expression made her pause. "No. Please don't stop. It's just..." She blushed fiercely. "I don't really know what I'm doing. You must think I'm so stupid."

His face softened. "Don't worry. There's no right or wrong here, and I promise you will enjoy this. Just relax."

He gently pushed her back into a lying position and Lynx acquiesced haltingly, but when he deftly pulled down her pants and slid all the way down between her legs, she cried out and instinctively pulled him back up. "No! You can't..."

Her cheeks were burning fiercely at the thought of him down there, looking at her, his face only inches from her core. Creators, she had felt his breath on her heat, and there was no way she would ever be able to look him into the eyes again if...

"Shhhh, _cara_ , this won't do." His lips were back on hers in another soft, sweet kiss, before he moved lower down again. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Admit it, in this one endeavour..." He was kissing her belly now, while his hands were stroking up her thighs. "I have the advantage and will be the one to teach you."

She opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could utter another word, he had already spread her wide open and his tongue was nudging her folds apart, gentle yet insistent, and she couldn't do anything but cry out in surprise at how incredibly good it felt. He didn't leave her any time to recover, teasing, caressing, his lips and tongue dancing all over her, finding yet more spots that made her squirm with delight. Her pleasure built faster than she would ever have believed possible and before she knew it she was bucking up hard into his mouth, crying out again as a wave of lust washed over her, leaving her shivering and overwhelmed.

She heard his brief, triumphant laugh as she came back to her senses, and blushed again. "I... I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" There was genuine surprise in his voice. "That was beautiful, and exactly what I intended for you to enjoy."

"But you..." Tentatively she reached for him, unlacing his pants with shaking hands, unsure of how to touch him. When her hand closed around him and he hissed sharply, she quickly pulled back. "That was wrong, wasn't it? I'm-"

He laughed, a little shakily, and caught her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. "Not wrong, no. Maybe a little too right." His hand found its way between her thighs and Lynx held her breath when his fingers brushed against her. "I promise, my dear, that we will explore this in detail later, but for now, I have other things on my mind."

"Zev." Suddenly impatient, she spread her legs wider and pushed herself closer into his touch. "Yes. Please. More."

He raised a surprised eyebrow. "I confess I didn't expect to find you so eager. I thought you-"

Lynx blushed a little. "There was… someone else. Just once."

"Ah." He slid first one, then two fingers inside her, still careful not to hurt her.

Lynx had to close her eyes for a moment as the memory rose, clear and sharp. _Fenarel_. His shy kisses, so unlike Zevran's skilled caresses, the love in his eyes, the infinite care and tenderness he had shown her back then, the pain of losing him...

She must have sobbed, because Zevran stilled, kissing her again, and when she looked at him, his face was full of worry. "There's no need to tell me more, _cara_ , but... Did he hurt you?"

When she realized what he was asking, Lynx shivered, touched by his concern. "No." She kissed him back eagerly, tasting the salty trail of a single tear still running down her cheek. "It was all good. Don't worry. And don't stop."

He smiled and resumed his caresses, deeper and more insistent now, until she could no longer bear waiting and begged him for more, in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. Finally he moved between her thighs, completely naked now, his slim, supple body moving with easy grace as he positioned himself and then slid inside her, inch by careful inch. She was glad for his restraint, glad for the iron control that prevented him from going too fast too soon. And then he stopped, deep inside her, and she felt so gloriously full, so complete that she instinctively wrapped her long legs around his waist, trying to hold on to him forever, to push him deeper, to make their bodies join as fully as possible.

Zevran tensed, taking several deep breaths, then slowly relaxed into her embrace, his lips finding hers for another slow, languid kiss. When he finally moved, something happened inside her, such a rush of feeling, both physical and emotional that she lost all capacity to analyse what was going on. There was just Zevran, inside her, around her, his body hot and taut against hers, his eyes watching her come apart, his lips widening into a sweet, genuine smile when he saw her give in to the pleasure washing through her, again and again and again.

Dimly she was aware that he was picking up speed, his thrusts quick and powerful now, his control finally faltering, but before she could even finish the thought, her own body exploded in a flash of clear, pure ecstasy that obliterated everything else. The last thing she saw before her world briefly turned black was the expression on his face as his head flew back, a mirror of her own, consumed by lust and wholly open and vulnerable.

* * *

Zevran's heart was beating so wildly it felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest. As he collapsed on top of Lynx' lithe, graceful body, he was too overcome to think clearly, too shaken to even consider her comfort. It had been too overwhelming: her smooth, pearly skin; her nipples, pale and pink like perfect rosebuds; her tight heat surrounding him. And most importantly, the expression in her dark eyes when he entered her.

There was no way he would ever be able to walk away from her again. He knew the feeling, knew it with painful clarity, and while some part of him wanted to run away from it, every nerve in his body was screaming at him to stay with her, to hold her forever.

"Zevran?" Lynx sounded just as wrecked as he did, and she was wiggling under him.

With a start he realized that he was smothering her with his weight, and he quickly pulled back, but she shook her head, clinging to him as if she couldn't bear to let go, any more than he did. Gently, he rolled over with her so he could take her in his arms again, kissing the top of her dark head.

"It's all good, _cara_." If she heard the slight tremor in his voice, she didn't point it out, and he was grateful. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and serious, always so serious. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

He scoffed at her words, but secretly he was amazed by it himself. Zevran couldn't recall the last time he'd waited so long for a woman. Night after night he'd dreamed of having her, wearing out his hand while he fantasized about her body. And yet, it had been worth the wait, to have her come to him of her own free will.

Kissing her again, he revelled in her taste, the willingness with which her mouth opened up for him, allowing him to tease her, to awaken more of that delicious heat in her. She moaned into his mouth, just a tiny noise, but it went straight to his groin.

No. He would never let go of her again. He would follow her to the gates of the Black City itself, if he had to. He was hers, body and soul. Forever.

 

 

 


	6. Epilogue - Sunrise

_The Brecilian Forest, outskirts_

"Well, Lynx?" Leliana sounded almost like an indulgent mother. "That went well, I thought. Now we have the Dalish on our side as well. And I bet you enjoyed being among your own kind again, didn't you?"

Lynx closed her eyes, fighting the impulse to scream at the bard. _My own kind..._

The image of Zathrian appeared before her inner eye, the coldness in his eyes, the way his features had closed up when she'd told him she had left her clan behind. There had been no welcome here, no coming home, not the slightest attempt to show love and support to one as lost and lonely as herself. And when she'd learned about the horrible curse the Keeper had inflicted on the human settlers, when she'd realized to what extremes his hatred had driven them, it had shaken her to the core.

But when she opened her eyes again and saw the eager, guileless expression on Leliana's face, she just sighed. No, the woman wouldn't understand. And more than that, she didn't want to explain. For the first time ever she felt ashamed of her own people. It wasn't her clan, she kept telling herself, Marethari would never have acted like that. And yet…

A warm hand settled upon her wrist. Zevran was looking at her with concern, his smooth forehead lined with worry. "Lynx?"

She bit back a bitter laugh, but couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Go on. Why don't you ask me the same? All this time I've kept whining how I miss my people. Surely you're wondering why I wasn't smiling and chatting happily with them."

His grip tightened. "That would be rather missing the point, _cara_ , wouldn't it? Since you are no longer one of them?"

Behind them, Wynne made a snorting noise. "You may no longer feel at home among the Dalish, my dear, but everyone needs roots."

Lynx felt a wave of anger surge up inside her. Turning to face the mage, she took a deep breath. "I'm not a tree, Wynne! The path of my people is no longer mine, and my _roots_ will no longer hold me back. I'm free and I choose my own way."

Next to her, Zevran inhaled sharply, but when she looked at him, there was nothing but sincere love and admiration in his expression. His voice was low and intense as he let go of her wrist and took her hand, squeezing it briefly. "Wherever you go, I'll be by your side, _cara_. I'm yours."

 _And I'm yours._ There was no need to say the words aloud. She knew he could read them in her eyes.

As they made their way out of the protective canopy of the trees, Lynx raised her eyes to the morning sun, already high up in the sky, well on its way to its zenith. Its rays were pleasantly warm on the exposed skin of her arms. She would proudly walk in the sunlight from now on. Its bright light would be there to guide her, no matter where she went, no matter how far she had to go, just as the moon watched over her at night. Smiling at Zevran, she straightened up instinctively.

There was no reason to be scared. She was free. And she was not alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I couldn't have done this without my wonderful beta suilven. Big hugs and thanks!


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